


Close

by canbreathe



Series: Oh, what to mourn [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Gender-Neutral Frisk, One Shot, Open to Interpretation, POV Second Person, POV Third Person, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 14:21:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11969211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canbreathe/pseuds/canbreathe
Summary: The wheels of the car go round and round, round and round, rounds and round...





	Close

As the light filtering through the lightly tinted car windows flicked, you slept.

Frisk was fully awake, staring out the sunroof, straining to see the wispy clouds, strung like ribbons across the sky. Sunlight falling through the car’s sunroof gave a quiet sheen to their tan skin, flickering as the car continued to drive through the city, light catching on the leaves and short brick houses before dancing on the car seats.

You slept quietly and peacefully,

Frisk clicked with their tongue quietly as the car slowed down little by little as it neared the traffic lights, sighing as the car lurched forward slightly with the press of the breaks. They winced as the tires lightly squealed against the grain of the road, grit scattered across it.

blissfully unaware of the world around you.

Their hands and nose were pressed against the window, as they strained to see people in their cars, to see if they had met them before or if they knew their names. The dull beat of music drifted in through the half open car window in the front, a pleasant tune without words from a distant radio.

The car quietly chugged along,

Frisk could hear the car engine mutter as it began to inch further along the cluttered road, vehicles and plastic barricades littering most of the asphalt. The road was coated with thinned pigment torn from the scattered petals, torn by dozens of cars. They strained to see the colour of them, but they knew the flowers were probably golden; they mostly were around here. Even daisies were somewhat uncommon.

as you slept, still.

Frisk was pressed against the glass, bouncing their leg, waiting patiently. They lightly hummed, too quietly for anyone other than themselves to hear. They peered through the window. They strained their eyes, strained to see the cars, strained to see the trees and strained to see the colours through their sealed eyes.


End file.
